3 Days to Go

We talk a lot about how difficult writing is here.

We talk about doubt. And fear.

We talk about the challenges - finding time to write, getting life to cooperate, confronting the blank page, ignoring the editor.

We talk about those things as a way of acknowledging a shared experience.

Because sometimes when you're in the process of writing, it can feel very lonely. And sometimes it has to be that way. I know that I feel that right now. The play I'm writing is working on me and I want to isolate. Just be with it and listen to it and not have to pay attention to anything else. Sometimes that isn't possible. But I'm realizing that I need to make more time to listen. To let my mind wander. Because that's part of the process too.

We acknowledge the difficulty, the challenges, the doubt and the fear because in one way or another, those are the elements of the process we share. And it's nice to know that you're not alone that way.

As we head into the last three days though I want to talk about something else. I want to talk about fun and enjoyment. Pleasure. For all the doubt, fear, difficulty and frustration - oh the frustration - there's a reason we show up and write. For me, it's because there's a twisted sort of pleasure in going through this.

I enjoy writing. When I'm writing I know who I am. Or learn more about who I am. What the world looks like and how I think it functions. Or how I wish it were. Or words. Words. Words. I love them. And there is joy in letting them move through me and onto the page. I forget who I am. There is relief from all the noise. A satisfaction in thinking it all through or not thinking at all, only writing. To rip it all out like a new bleeding heart. Or a fluffy bunny. Or whatever it is that is revealed. I enjoy it all.

May you enjoy these last three days. May your fingers be nimble and the words free flowing. And a few last words: Trust yourself. You are the foremost authority on your play. It is your world. Don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good. (paraphrased from Volataire who paraphrased it from an Italian book about Dramatic art or so the rumor goes) Don't judge. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write.  Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Rinse. Lather. Repeat.